


Trust

by Diviana



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Angst, Gen, Metahuman Dick Grayson, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-20 01:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14250558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diviana/pseuds/Diviana
Summary: If Dick Grayson discovers he was a metahuman all along, in the worst way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [Fic](https://thewickling.tumblr.com/post/126963183776/trust) migrated from Tumblr that was inspired by a hc canon post I saw on Tumblr. TLDR: Dick discovers he is an empath who can influence other's emotions.

Collapsing into the folds of his mattress, Dick’s head dropped into his cupped hands. The springs creaked under his slow, unsteady rocking. His thighs protested as he leaned into them with each forward push.  His lip turned pink mess between his gnawing and his tears. A geyser of rust and salt intermixed on his tongue every time he forced down a wail.

Drawing in one ragged breath, Dick pushed himself off the mattress. He dragged himself across the room. Dick placed his phone on his dresser. It blinked red. The screen flashed: Miss Call Bruce Wayne, Text Message Tim Drake, Miss Call Babs, Text Message Babs, and so on. The top one read: Call back asap. Whatever that quack told you – the rest of the preview was cut off. Dick averted his gaze. His stomach tightened. _How much of that was really Tim? How much of that was actually me?_

Swallowing, he jerked the top drawer open. He dug through the organized assortment of undergarments with his right hand. He braced himself against the dresser with his left. A metallic voice stated: Missed Call Bruce Wayne. His legs shook from the effort it took to keep upright. _What if they never cared about. . ._ His chest was a cage closing in on his heart and restricting his breathing. Dick coughed into his shoulder.

His fingers wrapped around a band of cash. He releasing his support and hobbled over his living room. He separated a third of the money and balled in a sock that he placed into a gray duffel. A third went into his backpack and the final third was crumpled into his pocket. He’d save the money for when he needed to go off-grid but he never thought he’d be using it for this. He’d always been running to something not away. 

_I’m a coward_ , Dick shut his eyes, but the best time to be coward is when you’ve learned your entire life was a lie. _How many people loved me because I loved them? How often did I fuck with their emotions?_

A blur of faces flashed through his mind: Wally, Roy, Donna, Kori. His jaw tensed and he bit back his emotions. _People always say your emotions betray you,_ he rubbed his temple. He was pretty sure they never meant it like this.

He licked the beads of red that queued up on his lip.  A full duffel and a climber’s pack held all of his belongings. His mouth twitched at the corners. He hadn’t imagined owning half he has when he was part of the Big Top. His mouth flattened into a straight line, _Back then, was I already like this?_

Shaking his head, Dick lugged his things over his shoulder. He needed to be alone. Bruce would be angry – _or would he?_ Dick shut his eyes and drew a shaky breath, _Don’t think._ He’d figure it out later but he need to leave now. If he waited any longer he couldn’t be sure that Bruce wouldn’t show up or Alfred or any of his family. He knew they – he cared about them which meant he couldn’t trust that they cared for him.


	2. Distrust

_Mister Richard,_

_I pray that you are well —_

Shoving the letter back into the envelope, he tossed it into a drawer. He swallowed, refusing the comfort Alfred’s words gave. He wasn’t sure what possessed him to open it — he already knew what was inside. The concern he couldn’t accept knowing it might be the result of years of manipulation. 

Glancing around his dingy living room, wrappers and fast food containers were scattered on most surfaces. The windows nailed shut; the curtains pulled tight. The apartment air stagnated, pregnant with dust and mistreatment. His self-imposed prison isolated him from the world. 

He wanted air. 

He didn’t deserve it — he _needed_ it. 

He picked a hoodie off the ground. It crinkled in his hands. Smelling musty, he had no idea when he last washed his clothes or changed them. He pulled the hood over his mangled hair. When was the last time I showered? 

He shrugged it off. He locked the door more out of habit than necessity. Apartments in this part of Bludhaven barely pinged any crook’s radar. The peeling paint and missing steps told everyone more than enough about the kinds of people who lived here. 

Dick stared firmly at the ground as he marched to the store around the corner. He pulled his shoulders in and slouched. He projected an aura of “leave me alone” that he probably didn’t need. People kept their heads down and avoided each other in these parts. Everyone was too busy trying to survive. Their excess energy focused on themselves and their families rather than strangers. Perfect for his needs. 

The air felt nice. The smoke and hint of human defecation did little to mar the refreshing chill of the air. His apartment was a coffin. Compared to a pine box, even urban decay felt clean. 

_I shouldn’t feel good,_ he thought as he clenched his jaw. 

_Don’t think. Don’t smile at anyone. Keep your head down._

_Get some water and chips. Don’t smile. Don’t talk to the cashier._

_In and out._

He placed crumbled bills in an outstretched hand. He trudged toward his apartment. He drilled himself. Imagining a chain around his emotions, around a power he wasn’t quite sure the scope of, he tensed up. _Leaving was a mistake. I can't hurt anyone if I'm alone._

“No, please I have kids!”

The fear palatable in her voice.

His eyes snapped up — an occupational hazard. A woman in her thirties clenched her bag between her body and a knife. A gaunt teenager tugged the strap of the bag. The two of people on the street ignored the scene, looking pointedly away from the crime. 

Before he made the decision, Dick dashed forward. Grab. Twist. Kick. He disarmed the kid. 

“Call the police and go,” his voice hoarse from disuse sounded anything but convincing.

She ran.

The kid massaged his wrist and growled, “Keep to your own business old man.” 

From the timber, the thief wasn’t much more than fourteen. Just someone scraping by in a city that didn’t care about him. Dick could see it — the thief being added onto the conveyor belt leading from juvie to prison. 

He sighed. Straightening up, Dick picked up the bag of food he tossed to the side at some point. He gestured to the distance. 

“Go before I change my mind.”

“You think I’m afraid of you?!”

Dick made eye contact. The kid stiffened. A different knife in hand, his gripe was clumsy and his stance filled with an opening. Dick shook his head.

“I have nothing to lose. What about you?”

Sirens sang in the background. 

“This isn’t fucking worth it.” 

The kid picked an alley and rushed to it. 

Dick shook his head again. He knew the Bludhaven beat. That siren wasn’t for them. Bludhaven’s response time was six minutes on average. Still, to be safe, he took the back alley path to the apartment. 

Opening the door, he kicked his shoes off. A breeze swam out of his apartment. His fight instinct kicked in. Dropping the bag, he pulled his arms up to guard his face. Pivoting, he saw an open window and Jason leaning next to it. His arms crossed and one foot braced on the wall. Several nails scattered near his feet.

“Nice to see you too, Grayson.” 

“Get out of my apartment, Jason,” he growled, closing the door behind him.

“Alfred sent me.” 

Dick checked if his ramen noodles and chips survived their impact with the laminate flooring. 

Jason clicked his tongue. “You’re a mess.” 

“Why do you care?” Dick hissed. 

He'd been prepared for Damian, Tim, or Bruce to show up any day now. Jason was the last person he expected to appear. Their relationship too marred by anger and regret. A litany of tensions spanning back years without resolution. Dick swallowed. He grabbed the reins of his emotions and pulled them taut. _Don’t feel —_

“I’m here because if anyone else was you would’ve already booked it.” Jason rolled his eyes. “Ran because your masochistic self can’t trust anyone that cares about you. And they do care before you sprout some bull about it all being fake.”

“Are you here to lecture me?”

“No, because you’d enjoy that. Get the guilt trip you always wanted from me.” Jason flexed his biceps as he shook his head. “Alfred asked me to knock some sense into you.” 

He smirked. “I have permission to kick your ass.” 

“Too bad I won’t.”

Jason relaxed his biceps and frowned. He reached through the open window and pulled up a bag. Throwing it at Dick, Jason leaned on the wall again. 

“Clean yourself up and then we’ll talk.” 

“No—”

“Don’t. We both know the only reason why you haven’t actually kicked me out yet is because if I’m not here someone else will be. Someone who _cares._ ”

The implication of _‘I don’t’_ comforted Dick. Jason didn’t mince his words. Dick appreciated that. Anyone else would try to make him feel better. He didn’t want that. Maybe that’s why he listened and entered the narrow bathroom. 

Dick turned the water to just short of boiling. Dick scrubbed the travel sized body wash over all over. The water ran black. Months of facial hair joined the dirt down the drain. 

Drying off, he saw that the plastic bag also had a comb in it. Making himself more presentable than he had been in months, he wore the cotton blue t-shirt and black yoga pants. His overgrown hair brushed loosely away from his face. 

He walked into the living room. His coffee table was now clear except for an empty, black duffel bag. Jason sat on his couch, scanning Dick’s face intently. 

“Here’s what we’re going to do — because we’re ass at talking anyway. We are going to skip ahead to the part were you pack your stuff. I’ll kindly offer you a room in my safe space. You get to wallow in your self pity away where Bruce and the others' prying eyes. I keep an eye on you and keep my promise to Alfred.” 

_Jason’s serious. He’s not using nicknames,_ he realized, _but why?_

“Why?” 

Jason clenched his jaw. Dick didn’t need any powers to see the discomfort roll off in waves. He mentally reeled in any potential feels he might have been extending toward Jason. 

“It pisses me off to you like this, Grayson.” 

The frustration exploding from his chest. Dick stepped back. Jason exhaled heavily. 

“You are the original Boy Wonder — you don’t get to be like this.” Jason’s mouth snapped shut. “I am spite—helping you just fucking accept it and we can stop talking about our _feelings._ ”

The last word sounded like a curse. Dick bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling. He weighed out his options: staying put, Jason's offer, leaving again.

The last one wasn't an actual choice. No matter where he went he would have a frie— acquaintance invested in him. Someone would follow. He choose Bludhaven in the first place because distance did not matter. He just needed his family to stay away. They wouldn't for much longer especially if Jason reported back in to Alfred. Which looped back around to the issue of Dick trusting Jason's offer.

"God, you're going to us talk, aren't you?"

Dick blinked.

"Footnotes version: I am spite-helping you because of reasons. Fast forward through us talking about our complicated past yadda," Jason groaned. "I remind you that Tim Tam, Batspawn, Barb, and the like will come if I leave. And unlike me, if you refuse, they will knock you out because _they care_ and drag you to get help. I, cross my heart, will just let you wallow until you decide to get yourself."

"Get help myself?"

"You're Dick Grayson. You're good. You're not going to help the world-suck increase because you aren't doing anything."

"Okay."

Spite-help — that came from a place Dick wasn't expecting. Maybe that was why Alfred sent Jason. Dick was ready for misinformed love and concern not pissed off indignation. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone's comments encouraged me to continue this. I'm surprised how popular this is. I feel like Jason might be a little occ but out of all the Batfam and people who would talk to Dick - I felt like Jason was the most likely to get Dick to willingly do something. 
> 
> There will be at least one more part in the future in this series. I'll write it when I have time. 


	3. Deceit

Jason pointed Dick to empty room on the left. His safe houses used to be single room bunkers. However, Roy and Kori’s occasional crash over meant he had to expand, especially he wanted a snooze-free sleep. Roy's volume could wake up a tarrasque.The room, like the rest of the bunker, was organized.

An extra-long twin bed took up the far wall. At it’s foot, a polished wood desk sat stocked with paper and pens. To the right of the door, there was a dresser of the same material as the desk. Two to three books rested on the shelves pinned to the walls. 

Dick dropped his duffel on the folded blankets. 

Jason’s skin prickled. The original Boy Wonder in his place…

**Vrr. Vrr.** His cell phone broke the silence and interrupted his thoughts. 

“Alfred. I’ll leave you to settle in.” 

Jason closed the door behind him. Marching, he exited the bunker. He stopped in the middle of the hall, halfway to exit door, to be safe. 

“Hello, Alfred.”

“Mister Jason. It seems that Mister Richard —” Jason thought he heard Alfred’s tone uncharacteristically quiver on Dick’s name — “has vacated his current residence.” 

“Is that so?” Jason ran his fingers through his hair as he swallowed a groan. “He was pretty unresponsive when I was there. Took fighting tooth and nail before I got him to take a shower.” 

His stomach clenched. Misleading Alfred made his chest heavy. 

“You have not seen him since.” The indication of a question absent from his statement. 

Jason smirked. Alfred like lots of old people seemed to be able say a lot more with one sentence than others with paragraphs. His suspicion rang out clearly. 

Jason pulled up one shoulder in half a shrug even though Alfred couldn’t see. “He’s probably holed up in some hellhole he thinks you lot won’t look.” 

“Perhaps that is best. Mister Richard seems to need some space. Thank you, Mister Jason for your assistance.”

“No problem.” _It was a huge pain in the ass but I’m not going to tell Alfred that._

“You should come over for —”

“Nope. I’m not a fan of another family reunion so soon. Maybe in a year or never.” 

“Take care Mister Jason.”

“Same to you.” 

Leaning on the wall, Jason exhaled a breath he forgot he was holding. He glanced at the bunker door. He sighed. The tension stored in his shoulders dissipated into the air. 

Alfred called at the perfect time. 

Dick’s nerves were getting to him. Jason, like most of Bruce’s wards, learned a stoic mask young. Using on a fellow Robin rubbed him the wrong way, but Dick not seeing it filled Jason with some sort of awfulness he’d rather not call concern. 

It was a good thing for Jason though or Dick would’ve booked it the other way. 

Dick radiated emotion. An aura of negatively that physically repelled him. So thick, that it kept the little Bruce clone and the goody-two-shoes, little brother from talking to Dick face-to-face for the last month. Not they weren’t willing to suffer a little breathlessness or discomfort to talk to their big brother, having them actually do it was bound to push Dick further away. 

Alfred talked him, Jason deduced, because the Lazarus Pit gave him a natural barrier to empaths. It wasn’t much in the large scheme of things — a surface level protection. Unlike all of Bruce’s training though, it didn’t feel intentional.

With Dick so tightly wound up, Jason hoped it hid enough for Dick to relax. 

When they had been on the streets, Jason felt like they both the south end of a magnet. If they hadn’t split up, Jason would’ve puked from the shittiness he felt pulsing from Dick. When they’d regroup in the isolation of the sewer’s Dick mood picked up. Now, Jason’s skin only pricked a bit. A smoke break every three or four hours should be enough to deal with it. 

Actually, Jason lit one up. _Gives me an an excuse for why I was outside so long._

Also, it gave him some time to figure out what he wanted to do about Dick. He’d offer his place on an impulse. Seeing the original Boy Wonder like that, Jason had to do something. 

_My and Dick’s relationship is complicated on a good day._

He meant it when he told Dick he’d be helping out of spite. _Dick’s Dick. Between him and Clark, if they aren’t out there doing good then there’s something wrong with the world. Seeing how much of a fucking mess Dick was —_

Jason inhaled, drawing in a deep breath of nicotine. 

Despite the mixture of negative emotions he held for Dick, the man was the original Robin. Batman had been his hero but Robin — Dick — had been his aspiration. 

_Why the fuck is he letting this phase him when he just kept ‘moving forward’ when I died —_

Jason exhaled, pushing that can of worms away. He was pissed off so he’d should that ball of anger into something constructive. 

Dick was his role model, the second closest thing he had to family when he was young, regardless of their shitty past, even if their communication always rested on a cliff edge, or maybe because of all that, Jason was going to set the world right. 

Crushing the cigarette, Jason threw the butt into his pocket ashtray.

Jason squared his shoulders and marched to his place. His living room had papers scattered across the floor. Evidence from his current case moved from a bulletin board to every available surface. Dick sat in the middle of it all - file in hand.

Jason smirked. 

Dick peered up. “Why are you handling this instead of the police?”

“The men in blue aren’t that clever,” Jason pointedly looked at Dick while he said that. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard Grayson had been a cop for a while. “It’s not like they’d make the connection about these.”

“The robberies seem pretty random. How did you figure it out,” Dick’s sentence slowed down a long moment. “Little Wing?"

Jason hated that name. It reminded him of the person he wasn’t anymore, but right now in this moment, Dick felt more like the person Jason admired and knew that he let it slide without a counter quip. It was work anyway. He tapered the jokes when things were serious. 

Finding a seat amongst the papers, Jason began, “There was an odd —” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was fun switching to Jason's pov for this part. 


End file.
